


there's something lonesome about you

by CaffeineChic



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Fluff, Good Omens Lockdown, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 06:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23966578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeineChic/pseuds/CaffeineChic
Summary: Post Lockdown fic.Crowley folded himself against the counter, arms nestling his head as he clawed at every ounce of dignity he had to not call Aziraphale. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. The angel had been clear. Don’t come over. Stay away. He’d see him…after.It was fine.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 257
Collections: Good Omens Lockdown fics





	there's something lonesome about you

Crowley stared at the phone in his hand, tightening his grasp around the edge. Stark black and definitely not ringing, definitely not letting an angel whisper in his ear, definitely not letting an angel invite him over. Fucking useless brick.

He tossed it on the counter. He circled. He paced. At one point, he hissed.

It was fine. He was going to sleep. He was going to get into bed and nap his way through this boredom, this angel-less fucking boredom.

It was fine.

He unlocked the phone. He locked it again.

It was fine.

Crowley folded himself against the counter, arms nestling his head as he clawed at every ounce of dignity he had to not call Aziraphale. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. The angel had been clear. Don’t come over. Stay away. He’d see him…after.

It was fine.

(it wasn’t it wasn’t it wasn’t it was too quiet and noiseless and empty. and he…he wanted.)

He eyed his phone.

It lit up. Aziraphale’s name blazing bright. He had it answered before the second ring. He didn’t care. 

He stood. He paced. He forgot to speak. 

“Oh, hello? Crowley?”

He feigned annoyance. “Of course it’s me, Aziraphale.”

“Right, yes. I thought perhaps we had left things on a sour note, I was hoping to catch you before your -- your hibernation, as it were.”

A clatter rang down the line.

“What are you doing, angel?” (the _without me_ went unsaid.)

“I’m sorry, my dear, the cord on the shop phone will only stretch so far and I was trying to check the kitchen timer.”

“If you would get an iphone, angel... let _me_ get you an iphone.”

“Oh, so you can do the time face thing and the instantgramming?”

_“Time face thing,_ angel... Christ. FaceTime. Yes, so we can FaceTime.”

“No, I don’t… I don’t think so, you know I don’t fare well with all these new _gadgets_ , I am fine with my adding machine --’

_“Computer,_ angel.”

“-- and my bakelite serves me well, I don’t think this eye-phone contraption would do.”

Crowley bowed his head until he was tipped against the door, eyes squeezed shut and phone pressed hard against his ear. His free hand rose and ghosted against the door. It was too sleek, too sterile, too void of texture. He wanted grain beneath it, coarseness, roughness. He wanted his skin to _feel_. He ran the tip of his ring finger down a too smooth path.

He wanted.

“I want to see you, angel.”

He could have swallowed his own tongue. He could have unhinged his jaw and consumed the whole damn phone, shoved the entire world inside his mouth piece by piece so he’d never have room for words to get free again.

But there was room now. And he couldn’t stop them.

“I just want to see you.” Crowley twisted and slid down against the door, a curlicue of limbs and longing.

(i miss you i love you i am tired of all these rules that have latched us to different sides and places. i am tired of all the things we’re not supposed to have. why can’t we have this.)

“Oh. I -- oh -- we could _see_ each other.”

And Crowley was suddenly uncoiled and standing because there was hope traversing up his spine and hauling him upright.

“Yes, yes exactly! We could see each other without breaking any of the -- any of the _rules_ angel.” It was a beautiful loophole he could wrap around Aziraphale and tie them both together with. “Yeah I could, I dunno watch you make all these cakes you were on about -- you must have more in mind, you always have more in mind.”

(you want and want and want and please want me too.)

“They take quite some time, dear boy.”

There was a smile there, soft and gentle -- a question too -- how long would you do this, how long would we look?

“I’ve got time.” (all the time, all for you, eternity if you’ll take it)

“So if I had one of those mobile devices we could -- we could see each other while being apart? And you would…stay awake, and not -- and not nap?”

Crowley inhaled deeply, forcing a calm into his voice that he didn’t truly feel. “Sure, angel.” Another forced drag of air into his lungs. (fill up your chest fill it fill it fill it, expand your ribs and feel the ache) “I could manage that.”

(for aziraphale. he’d incinerate the bed if he had to, miracle the apartment to disappear the bedroom, vanish the couch into the ether. the walls and ceilings were holding him hostage. they’d have to stay. keep him enclosed and away from the angel’s look of disappointment should he breach the bounds. they had their rules now but they were _theirs_. he could work with that.)

“And perhaps you could show me how your plants are doing?”

Crowley’s tongue was loose and languid, unwound in elation “ -- show you anything you like.”

The line went quiet -- a soft huff of breath in his ear.

“I -- ”

“Shit, m’sorry -- I meant -- ” (don’t hang up, don’t go don’t go don’t go)

An angelic throat coughed and cleared and spoke words directly to the space his Grace had resided in -- “I like _you_.”

Oh. Oh oh oh. His body went through the motions of beating his heart, hammering it against his sternum but the blood wasn’t moving, it was congealed in his veins, thickening sludge that served no purpose. What on earth was happening. His bones ached. His skin itched. He was being filled with more than hope.

“Aziraphale.” He begged he begged he begged.

“Crowley.” -- (his name, an answer, a promise in his ear.) - “You’ll take care of me, uh, it for me, won’t you? The telephonic device - with the facetiming?”

He cracked and split and spilled to the floor again. His body felt molten. “Yeah. Yes. Yes. It’ll be at yours tomorrow, angel. All set up. Nothing to worry about.”

(nothing a miracle or three couldn’t provide.)

“Wonderful.”

Yeah. It was.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I've ever written a fic in one day so I have no idea what's going on!
> 
> Bless this fandom, and everyone in the GO Events discord
> 
> And to my wife who very graciously edited this without delay because she is way better than I deserve.


End file.
